


Beginnings

by NicoleAnell



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-30
Updated: 2011-10-30
Packaged: 2017-10-26 17:28:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/285969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NicoleAnell/pseuds/NicoleAnell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six mornings, set early in the missing year.  Written for the pyramidofdreams Kara/Sam ficathon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beginnings

He's too cheerful in the morning. It's not a surprise the second time. His smile had been haunting her on Galactica, every time she had to plead to go back and get shot down. This morning at least it's contagious, feels like things are actually getting _good_ for once. Which is, in her experience, the feeling right before catastrophe.

Squished in the bunk with her -- they'll really need to figure out this living situation -- he relaxes quickly from his just-woke-up-on-a-brand-new-ship confusion. "What's going on?" she asks. "What are you thinking about?"

"It's weird not to be taking that anti-radiation stuff right now."

"Yeah, you're welcome," she mumbles, but gives a softer smile meant to assure him she's not being mean. Cottle's supposed to check him out today, and everyone else from Caprica. If he's nervous he's not letting on, but she's bracing herself just a little. It would just take a few stupid mistakes.

The morning on Caprica, she remembers she was irritable. That she was on a dead planet with some disorganized band of jocks and her best friend who knocked up a Cylon (her _other_ best friend once). She was not horny anymore and not in a mood to be anything but a bitch.

He wasn't even that good-looking in the morning, she started thinking -- he was _too_ handsome or something, handsome in a way that just pissed her off right now. She thought that he frakked her like an athlete, cocky like that. But he said something gentle and smartass that made her laugh, something about the end of the world. He teased back and kissed her. She thinks that's when she knew, sometimes -- before she knew a hell of a lot about _him_ , she knew it wasn't just a quick frak to forget about the nukes. There was something in his easy smile that made her want to love him. She gets what she wants, most of the time.

On Galactica he plays with her hair and she groans, "I need a shower. You need to get to sickbay."

"I don't know where that is."

"I'll hold your hand," she says sarcastically, but he's already taken it with a squeeze and a kiss. He looks at her in that marvelling way that makes her slightly tense, like he's seeing someone there she isn't, but she lets the feeling melt away for now.

*****

He plays with her hair; it's longer than it was before. "I need a shower," she groans.

"You," he palms her face and kisses her between words, and she returns it. "You smell better than most people I've been around the last nine months." Another kiss, one hand stroking the curve of her back. "I promise."

"Wow," she says. "Wow, you know how to charm a girl. Now why don't I think you're used to waking up with women?"

"I dunno," he shrugs, borrowing her tone. "Why do I think you're used to running out on men?"

Her smile barely moves but doesn't seem happy anymore. He goes, "I'm kidding," but she shifts just barely away from him, ironic under the circumstances. He won't apologize for being wrong on a technicality, violating some rule he hadn't learned yet.

She seems to make a decision and plop herself back onto the bed, almost on spite. "I'm here," she says, in a tone that seems oddly like a violent threat. Then, "I came back."

"I know." He didn't mean that. He doesn't think he meant that. "Will you- relax or something. You're just not the backyard-and-kids type."

She stares in his eyes, just daring him now. "You know what type I am?"

"I'm getting to," he nods. "I'd like to."

"I'm not the kids type," she agrees after a minute. "And the universe isn't big on backyards right now."

"Except on New Caprica." It slips out; he means nothing by this either.

"Except on New Caprica," she repeats, turning it over in her mouth. That's all they say about it for a while.

*****

"You believe it?" he asks her one of the early mornings. "End of the war?"

"I don't know, Sam. Guess we'll have to see." He's antsy, a weird mix of hopeful and paranoid. He moves his hands through his hair a lot and taps his fingers on the table. It should annoy her but it doesn't. She still has endless tolerance for anything Anders wants to do, alive and in front of her and alive. "I know this is happening fast," she tells him, lacing her fingers into his. New president, new planet, what that toaster priest said -- it's a lot for _her_ , and she's not also trying to figure out where the bathrooms on Galactica are.

"I just don't think I buy it," he says. "Why would they just-" he sighs and grimaces. "But I told you, they were acting weird. Between Sharon - your Sharon, and the other Sharon. Maybe there was some kind of tension with them."

"Maybe," she offers. He's alive and with her, the possibilities are overwhelming.

" _Cavil_ , just-" he can't say the name without a flash of anger behind it. "I feel like I should've known. Something he said or... something not being normal."

"There isn't a whole lot of normal around, Sam. And that's what they do."

He doesn't seem convinced one way or the other. "You think this is a lie too?"

"They had us, Sam. We were dead in that trench."

"I know," he says quietly. She buries herself in his arms. She hadn't been scared, or at least wouldn't admit it. Fear gets you killed, but they were done anyway.

"You were gonna pull the trigger, right?" she asks. "Sam?"

"Seriously?" He takes too long to answer. She wants to trust him. She would've asked Helo if she wanted someone to tell her she was crazy. "Yeah," he says. Then: "Don't ask me to do that again." He's dumb, brave in a dumb way. It makes her defensive.

"You get it, though, right? I didn't want to do it _either_ , Sam, gods."

"I know," he says quickly. "I know. You were right."

"Tell me you saved one," she says, glancing at his eyes. "One farm after I left, or a person..."

"Four," he said. It should be comforting but something in her stomach twists at that. That many, existing in the first place. "Four farms. Skinjob gave us the locations. Only one was a trap." He looks uncomfortable talking about it, even for a victory, but she believes him. "We got a few people out too. Lot of women, some men. Some of them died when the camp was raided though." She's not so upset given the alternative. "You never know, if there's a chance... if there's any hope of-" and she scoffs.

"That's the moral of that story, really? Hope?"

"I didn't want to shoot you," he says again.

She wants to trust him. "But were you going to?"

"Yeah," he says. "Of course I was."

*****

"Kara," he tugs her arm and pulls her back toward his lap. "You gotta meet this guy."

"That's Hot Dog, baby. I know him." They've been up until the sun was out. This was the first celebration, official naming of the planet or something. Baltar's already announced another for the groundbreaking, more to follow from the ribbon-cuttings. Sam sees this guy transform into a teenager next to her, a rookie, awed and intimidated by her under his bravado. "You want funny stories about him?" she says. "He can't 180 for shit."

"Hey," the kid says, too loudly over the band. "I followed her into a firefight once. Everybody else turned back. We got 'em all."

"I think _I_ got them all, and you puked in your helmet."

"Well, yeah," he says, too tired and buzzed to be embarrassed.

Sam makes a disgusted face through his laughter, but it's forgotten soon enough for him to turn to Kara and peck her on the lips, which turns into a full-mouthed kiss before either of them can help it, onlookers be damned. He says, "So who's got the funny stories about you?"

"Your mom," she says with a drunken giggle.

"That doesn't- that doesn't even make sense."

She pokes a clumsy finger in his face, striking a faux-serious look. "Listen, Mr. Sports Star, while you were off with your cars and supermodels, _I_ was already doing badass things with my life. And with better stats."

"I- I dated _one_ supermodel," he interrupts so honestly that her serious face breaks apart. "She was a nice girl."

"Gods, who _are_ you?" she says in a gale of laughter.

"Uh, I'm your boyfriend Sam, I think we've slept together a few times."

"Hmm," she quirks her head. "Doesn't- no, not ringin' a bell, you may have to remind me."

"Is that right?" He presses closer against her.

"Definitely need to remind me."

"It was pretty dark."

"Oh, it'd have to be."

"You- shut up," he mumbles without a better comeback, and she cackles hysterically.

"My boyfriend, is that right?"

"You sort of led me on when you were saving my life."

"I could say the same to you."

"I don't know what you're gonna do for our anniversary." It slips in, these things. Anniversary.

*****

The tent's more uncomfortable than the bunk, but they're told it's temporary. They'll raise public buildings first, houses within a year. The first week they share in a sleeping bag; the three weeks after, they bring down a mattress. It's an easier decision than he thought it would be, her going on leave. She may just be trying _that_ hard to call his bluff. But it mostly seems like she got bored, hovering over the same atmosphere with no enemies in sight. Even training, it's not where anyone's energy is anymore. "There's no _recruits_ ," she compalined once. "Everybody's just -- down here."

They're supposed to expect the planet to cool when the seasons change, for the weather to get unpredictable, but for now it's warm. They sleep half-naked without sheets. The mattress is old and crummy enough that it wavers back and forth under their bodies sometimes, like a rocking chair.

Sam wakes one day to find her wide awake, watching him sleep. All morning she hesitates on saying something, less believably casual by the second. "Y'know, I was engaged once." She watches his face with a look that's nakedly vulnerable. He didn't know this.

"Okay," he says carefully, "It didn't end well?"

"He, uh, he died." He nods then toward her hand, the ring on her thumb, and she immediately turns it inward, makes her fingers into a self-conscious fist. She says, "Yeah." It seemed like the kind of charm he didn't feel right asking about.

"Lucky man anyway," he says, and she shakes her head and laughs in surprise.

"He was a lot of things, lucky wasn't on the list." Another long pause, and then she says, "He was... the old man's son. Lee's brother." For a split second he finds himself thinking: Oh. _That's_ what that was. "So you don't hear it from anybody else, okay?"

"Was it the Cylons?" he asks.

"No, no, this was - wow, this was almost three years ago. It was a stupid accident." And then in another burst, as if she was done talking but then forced out another thought, "It was my fault." He rubs her back and says nothing. He feels like his instinct should be _no_ , tell her it isn't her fault, but he knows the feeling too well now. He knows that never matters, especially coming from some jerk who wasn't there. He's thinking about Coach and Sue-Shaun, and he only says "It's okay," and kisses the side of her neck. She holds his head there and closes her eyes, and they sit there rocking for a long time.

"I thought maybe you lost someone," he says suddenly. "And you didn't talk about it. I wondered if that's why you came back to Caprica. Felt like something I would do."

She smiles at him a little. "I came for the magic arrow. _Second_ time I went back for a boy, get it straight."

*****

She smells like grass and needs a shower. The XO gives her a drink and she stares at the sun. There's a blotchy, cup-shaped imprint on Sam's face when she wakes him up, and that somehow makes her feel guiltier than anything else.

"Hey," he groans, struggling to grin even through his hangover. "C'mere." He's too frakking cheerful in the morning. "You gotta meet this guy, Kara," he says, and then his face screws up from the sunlight and he seems to get his bearings a little more.

"Sam, roll over," she says, and presses some ice to his face.

"I think you won," he says. "I want credit for being man enough to admit defeat though." He smiles at her.

"I love you," she tells him. That it's a choice doesn't make it a dishonest one.


End file.
